


Right Where We Belong

by Rileykins



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, F/M, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Player - Freeform, Other, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2019-11-26 12:38:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18180698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rileykins/pseuds/Rileykins
Summary: "No matter how far I drift again, I know you'll keep a light on for me."You've returned to your Grandfather's cottage in Pelican Town. It's the promise of a new start, a fresh start, one that erases your past and everything else in it. With this new town comes new people, new faces, the chance to grow. There's another newcomer in town, too. Elliott. A budding novelist. It seems like fate has your second chance all planned out for you.But you don't expect any of this to be easy, not with your track record.





	1. as i leave the empty station

**Author's Note:**

> I've fallen into a Stardew Valley hole and I'm not even sorry about it. I have to re-write the next few chapters of A Little Faster due to some gaping plot holes I can't fluff over, so this is my "Avoid Burnout" project in the meantime. Also, there will be more tags added as I write, don't be alarmed.

“ _Pelican Town, Stardew Valley_!”

 

Jolted awake by the raspy screech of the bus driver, you raise your head and look around. You’re the only one on the bus, but you don’t remember the stretch between Zuzu City and… here, Stardew Valley. Blushing, you rise to your feet and stumble down the narrow path between bus seats, legs wobbly from hours of prone napping. The driver has already climbed down and out of the bus, hauling what little you have to the dusty dirt of the station. You thank the driver meekly, pressing a folded bill into his palm before stepping off the bus and into the warmth that came with spring in a valley.

 

Even the weather was different here, and it was barely a 16-hour ride south from Zuzu City.

 

“Hello!” Came a cheery voice only seconds later. You turn your head and find yourself meeting the cool blue eyes of a redhead, who looked like someone you had seen before. “You must be-” she paused, a natural beat in her conversation. “Charlie!”

 

You nod, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. You could vaguely recall meeting Robin when you were younger, visiting your grandfather one summer. “Hello.” The greeting feels forced, robotic. The redhead doesn’t take notice, or care.

 

“I’m Robin, the local carpenter.” She approaches you, hand extended out. You slide your palm into her’s and share a handshake. Of course, she doesn’t remember _you_. At most shes three, four years older than you- it wasn’t like you two would hang out when you came down to visit your grandfather all those years ago. Immediately she beams and bends down to gather one of the two suitcases you’ve packed. You don't have time to stop her. 

 

“Mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you, and show you the way to your new home.” Robin continues, picking it up easily as she turns and starts to walk away. You look over your shoulder, the bus was now gone. 

 

Another bus sits up the road, windows dirty and the door slightly ajar. You frown, watching it as if waiting for it to lurch to live. How long has it sat there abandoned? 

 

“He’s there right now, tidying things up for you!” Robin calls over her shoulder.

 

You turn and follow her, noticing immediately that there were no sky-touching buildings. No skyscrapers, no bustling, honking, swerving cars on the road. Where had they stopped? Hour five, hour six? You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth. It was quiet, like the way the city held its breath before a cluster of traffic. Birds chirped peacefully in the tall pine and maple trees that sheltered some parts of the dirt path from the dilapidated bus station. 

 

Taking stock, you noticed that the station sat on a long stretch of road, with no other buildings around it. You were heading west, and the foliage only grew in more and more as you and Robin walked. Robin was humming, and you couldn’t help but notice how the sun warmed the strands of her hair, from copper in the shade to a brilliant sunset red. 

 

You noticed that about people, about the way their shoulders sloped when they were sad or the way their jaw tightened when they were angry. Natural warning signs you had become an expert in noticing. She turned, looking back at you with that same gentle smile on her face. You had been caught. 

 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll keep following me.” If she was annoyed that you had been studying her, she didn’t show.

 

You blush at her words. Where else could you go? Your grandfather had left it to you, after all.

 

There had to be at least a mile and a half between the station and your land. Possibly more, but you weren’t so great at tracking distances. Ducking under heavy pine branches you clear what you’d assume would be an entry point onto your property. You can’t help it when your mouth falls open. The land is littered in rocks, boulders, and a jungle of trees stretched well above the peaked roof of what you assumed was your grandfather’s cabin. 

 

The cabin reminds you of the bus station, old and rotting and held together by rusty nails and dangerous DIY weekend projects taken on by an old man with nothing but time on his hands. You’re staring, ogling the mass of wood planks, stone steps and mismatched cords, nails and screws you saw hiding beneath the moss, rust and-

 

“What's the matter?” Came Robin’s half-teasing tone, pulling you from your thoughts. It looks like someone had taken the time to clear a wide path from the entry to the cabin, but it seemed like the rest of the land was covered, buried under years and years of neglect. Was that the pile of chopped wood growing mushrooms? She dropped your suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and came back for the second one. 

 

“Sure, it's a bit overgrown,” - you wince at the word - “but there’s some good soil underneath that mess!” 

 

A mess. That was the understatement of the _year_.

 

“With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time!” Robin sounded so sure of you and your incredible lack of skill in this area. You shook your head slightly, still getting adjusted to the sight of … well, everything around you. There wasn’t much space for anything. How on Earth were you going to get a little field going? Could the soil even retain enough water or fertilizer to produce a proper harvest by the seasons end? You rubbed the back of your neck, before taking the few strides to meet up with Robin at the bottom of your cabin’s rickety, five-step porch. Robin motioned to it, smiling at you again. 

 

“And here we are!” Her arms went up as if she was presenting something majestic and awe-inspiring to you. “Your new home!”

 

You open your mouth to speak, to say something, anything that wouldn’t be somehow considered rude or disheartening when the door to the cabin squeals open. An older man with a cap on ambles out, grumbling about the rusted out hinges when he turns and spots you. His face changes, as if he’s seeing something for the first time. Well, he is. 

 

Technically. 

 

“Ah, the new farmer! Charlie, it’s good to see you again!” The old man says as he half-shuffles his way across the groaning deck. You take the steps up and meet him halfway, giving a weak smile. You were beginning to feel overwhelmed with it all. The farm, Robin’s near-overbearing ways, Lewis’ smile that reminded you so helplessly of your grandfather. 

 

“Welcome!” He continues and offers you his hand. You take it, shake it, and he steps back, thumbs comfortably going under his suspender straps. “I’m Lewis, Mayor of Pelican Town, but you ought to remember that much.” He winks at you, and the name spins a memory firmly lodged in your brain. Your grandfather dragging you to the fair one early autumn day, with Lewis dressing up as the clown. He honks his nose at you and you give a shrill laugh. That was the day your grandfather had really shown his talents off at the display. He had won that year, praising your seven-foot tall sunflower as his winning piece.

 

“Hi Lewis,” You echo meekly. He grins, and then plows out, turning to look at you once more.

 

“You know, everyone’s been talking about you.” He said, his charismatic smile fading into something more like a pity smile. A sad smile, the truth of the matter was that the community knew your grandfather endlessly better than they would ever know you. You nodded, looking down at your feet. Ironically, you would have very big boots to fill. Literally. Lewis cleared his throat, carrying on. “It’s not every day someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal around here!”

 

“Yeah,” You say, lifting your head, unsure of what else to do. Robin smiles kindly from the bottom of the stairs. Lewis’ pity smile once more played up, and you felt your chest tighten in response.

 

“So. You’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage.” Lewis remarks, his once chipper, Mayor-seated tone now sad, more realistic. Your grandfather had been his best friend for years. He had driven all the way to where you held the funeral and had rubbed your shoulder when you cried. Your grandfather had been all you had. When he died, you were alone. You felt your eyes sting at the thought, and cough into the crook of your arm to hide the sudden onslaught of emotions. Lewis takes a step towards you, possibly to comfort you, but he steps back, swaying slightly on his feet. He looked up at the cottage, squinting against the mid-afternoon sun that sits right over it.

 

“It’s a good house. Very rustic.” The tone in his voice makes you look at him. He almost sounds proud. Bittersweet. Maybe he helped build it. Robin chortles from your right, and you cross your arms over your chest as she grins up at you, seemingly untouched by the sharing of emotions between you and Mayor Lewis.

 

“Rustic? Well. that’s one way to put it…” She pauses, drawing it out for added effect. She tilts her chin up, eyes glittering. “Crusty might be a little more apt, though!” You choke out a strange sound, a mix between a snort and a gasp. Lewis harrumphs from beside you, clearly not taking the joke as kindly as you were. He mutters under his breath: “Rude!”

 

You and Robin share a laugh before Lewis touches your upper arm. You jolt, the contact unexpected and uncalled for, but it seems like the Mayor of Pelican Town doesn’t notice. Or maybe he doesn’t care. “Don’t listen to her, Charlie,” Lewis says, his kind tone replaced now with something else. You feel the smile on your lips turn. “She’s just trying to make you dissatisfied that you’ll contact her for one of her house upgrades.” The words are barbed and clearly meant to hurt. Robin’s laugh stops instantly, and she glowers at Lewis. You swallow thickly. 

 

This isn’t how you wanted the first evening at your new home to go.

 

Lewis seems to catch the energy shift, and looks back at you, the good ol’ “Mayor of Pelican Town” smile back on his face. It's almost unsettling, really. How quickly he could turn the charm on and off. It set a prickling across the back of your neck. “Anyways!” He says, loudly, as if reminding Robin to be on her best behaviour towards their newest resident. “You must be tired from that long journey.” You are tired. Exhausted, in fact… and not just from the journey. “You should get some rest, Charlie.” He moves to gently rest his hand on your shoulder and you don’t jump out of your skin this time. 

 

Lewis smiles kindly at you before he removes his hand and starts the walk down the stairs. “Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a little bit!” He calls over his shoulder, reaching to collect Robin, too. “Introduce yourself, the townspeople would appreciate that.”

 

You nod, but the thought of meeting new people so soon, so quickly, turns your stomach into knots. Robin moves your suitcase within your reach and smiles at you as she begins to walk away with Mayor Lewis, her job for the moment finished. You look to lean on something, anything to ground you from the overwhelming sensations you were beginning to feel when Lewis turns back to look at you.

 

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He starts and moves towards what you thought was a second pile of wood. You approach the end of the deck, taking great consideration not to send your foot through the rotting plank. “If you have anything to sell, you can just stick it in this box!” Lewis says as he clears off some fallen dead branches from what looks like an equally rickety shipping box. 

 

“I’ll come by before the end of the day and collect it.” He finishes, now beaming at you. Great. You’d have to make a path for Lewis tonight by the looks of things. You look out towards the expanse of land, the tall crooked tops of the trees easing you into a strange sense of familiarity and comfort.

 

The silence is back, but a soft cough breaks it. “Well… good luck!” Lewis says, and waves before turning on his heel once more and starting down the path. You knew better than to thank him for whatever he did in the cottage; he wouldn’t hear you now anyways. Robin waves as well, casts her gaze along the same path you had taken, before turning back to dart after Lewis. You can hear her scolding him for the callout, and the warm deep belly laugh of the Mayor squeezes around your heart. No wonder your grandfather adored him. 

 

Turning back to the propped open door of the cottage, you pick your two bags up with everything in it and head inside.

 

It's pathetic.

 

The floor is thankfully covered by a ratty, thin, off-red carpet. The room itself is a single room, with a bathroom door off to the right. You frown, not remembering the house being this small before. Where’s the second bedroom? Where’s the kitchen? There’s a rickety old television set on an equally rickety looking table, with what looks like a microwave box jammed under it for support. Dropping your bags, you rub the back of your neck once more. The work outside would take up all of your time and energy, so whatever Lewis had done in here would have to be enough for now.

 

Approaching the sofabed that takes up the corner of the room, you unfurl it, half-expecting to find it old and in pieces like everything else. Instead, it’s soft to the touch, and you notice with growing happiness that there’s still plastic from the wrapping stuck under one of the legs, and wrapped around the middle support of the twin sized mattress. Lewis had bought this for you, you’re sure of it. You sit on the bed, eyes welling up with tears. Your grandfather had sold everything, it looked like when he realized his health was failing and wasn’t coming back. Maybe you shouldn’t have judged the cottage so harshly; maybe when your grandfather left, the townsfolk tried to keep it together, dreaming of the day he came back to it.

 

He would never step foot in this cottage again, and now it belonged to you.

 

“I’m doing this for you, Grandpa.” You whisper, stubbornly wiping the stray tears that had fallen. “I’m going to clean this place up, bring it back to what it used to be… for you.” It’s not the truth, it’s only partially because there’s another reason you’ve taken up your grandfather’s legacy. 

 

You stand and begin to move your suitcases again, this time tucking them into the corner of the room under the window. As you do, your shirt rides up, exposing your black and blue hip and lower back.


	2. first thing i see is the sun over the mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think all the chapters will be this long, but if they are... this is officially considered slow burn from this chapter on, haha. Also I'd like to dedicate this chapter - and this fic - to my best friend, AngelsAvengeMe. Thank you for being my Stardew Valley trash buddy and enabling me to do this. Love you.

You wake to the sound of a crowing rooster.

 

For a minute you groan, annoyed with the sound as you pull the blanket up and over your head to squeeze in a little more rest, before you sit up in the sofa bed, shoving and kicking the thin blanket off your body. You stand in the open concept room, heart pounding when your brain can’t seem to place where you are. It takes a minute, but soon your heart slows and the memory of your long journey comes back in almost calming waves. Getting on the bus late at night in Zuzu, sleeping on and off as the bus lurches along the road, waking to the sound of the driver calling out Stardew Valley. Meeting Robin, Lewis…

 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. You aren’t sure of the time; with no clock or phone to tell you, you have to suffer at whatever ungodly fate the rooster woke you up at. You take a second, reeling your racing heart back under control.

 

Stretching your legs out over the side of the actually very comfortable sofabed, you pointedly thank Lewis quietly as you move to stretch. The day would become all sorts of horrible if your back hurt any more than it did from sleeping hunched over on the bus. You stretch, reaching up to the ceiling, before settling into a Mountain pose, closing your eyes. A basic flow followed, with each pose taking up about twenty seconds. Mountain. Breathe. Move into a basic triangle. Hold, breathe. Flow into warrior one, hold. Warrior two now, breathe. With your arms stretched out to either side, you crack your eye open, a feeling in the base of your spine tingling up to your skull.

 

There was a forlorn box in the middle of your room.

 

Yoga poses forgotten, you straighten out and take a few timid steps towards it as you begin to think of all these questions. Who left it there? Was it there when you walked in? Had Lewis put it there in the middle of the night? If he had access to your cottage until you could change your locks, then who else did? Who even knew you were here yet outside of Robin and Lewis? Did the door even have a lock? You stagger back under the weight of your suddenly spinning mind, sitting on the sofabed. You needed to change the locks, immediately. You felt your heart beginning to race once more, the room swam unsteadily in front of your eyes. You press your palms into the soft, cool fabric of the blanket. You gather the blanket between your fingers, taking a couple of slow, deep breaths. 

 

Grounding. It was what the doctor told you to do when you felt the anxiety crashing along your nerves and gripping your bones. Grounding, when the world was spinning and you were desperate to hold onto something- anything. “I’m Charlie,” You whisper, rolling every grounding technique that suited you into one. “I’m sitting in my grandfather’s cottage - my cottage, now - in Pelican Town on a sofa bed. Its… it’s sometime in the morning. I heard a rooster… I think.”

 

Eventually, the room stopped spinning. You spat out a few more facts, mainly that you had to go outside soon, and you had to find the town to stock up on food. Your nerves were frizzed out, but you had no choice. You got back up, went to the forlorn box that had triggered your attack, and brought it over to the bed. Ripping the packaging open, you spot a soft cream paper sitting on top of what looks like tiny seedlings.

 

“Here’s a little something to get you started. Welcome to Pelican Town, Charlie!” Signed, Mayor Lewis. You feel your stomach tighten up again, but before you can send yourself spiralling down another panic attack, you gently pull the fifteen seedlings out of the box, squinting at them. They were tiny. Barely more than a few days old, you guessed. Or weeks. You honestly had little to no idea how any of this worked. You set your jaw, turn to the door that would have to remain lockless and available to anyone to walk through, and walk outside.

 

The farm - the overgrown land - was beautiful in the early morning. Dew clung to branches and grass, sparkling in the early morning sun. The filtered rays twinkled between softly swaying pine branches, the soil looking warm and golden under it. You felt the knots in your stomach untying themselves as you stared in awe. This all belonged to you. Setting the seedlings beside the stairs so you wouldn’t accidentally trample them, you set your hands on your hips and glance around. The easiest thing, for now, would be to clear the tall swaying grass to the east of the cottage. There weren’t very many rocks nor trees, and for that, you were grateful. 

 

Heading back inside with a plan set, you were determined to have something to be proud of by the end of the day.

 

**~*~**

 

However long you were swinging the scythe for, by the time you had tilled the ground and had set the seedlings in, the sun was high in the sky. It had to be closer to noon. You leaned back on the scythe, looking down at your little garden bed. You had found the right tools behind the cottage, buried under a bright purple tarp, that amazingly didn’t have moss growing over it. There had been a weathered but sharp axe, a long-handled pickaxe, the scythe you held in your hand, and a flat headed ho. You found the watering can tucked beside the stairs. That was all you needed to clear the space. Your grandfather had thought of everything, it seemed. Except for locks on the door, but he could be forgiven for that.

 

But you notice without fail that you no longer just smelt like old bus oil. You wipe your forehead, feeling the stirrings of exhaustion in your muscles. Whatever you had to do tomorrow would hurt double whatever you were feeling now. Dragging the scythe behind you, you rest it against the deck of the cottage and head inside, desperate to wash the dirt and stink out of your skin. Maybe a shower would help you feel more refreshed: you still had to go into town for more seeds and tools, and to ‘meet the townspeople’, as Lewis had suggested. The thought of meeting people still sent your stomach into weird knots, but there was no avoiding it now.

 

You head back into the cottage, grateful that the bathroom had access to running water, and as you wait for the water to quit belching out rust with it, you squint out the window, noticing a glittering behind the wall of tall pine trees to the east. Hm. Whatever was over there would have to be unveiled at a later time. You simply just didn’t have the energy for it today.

 

After your shower, you don’t bother with your hair, instead, you run a comb through it to simply detangle it as you shrug into cleaner - and less smelly - clothes. There’s a tiny tin looking mirror hanging above the toilet, and you run your fingers through your fringe, before finally settling on your look. You were cleaner than you were twenty minutes ago. The townsfolk would simply have to deal with it if they had any issues with how you looked. Picking up the shoulder bag you had packed, you slung the strap over your shoulder and began the trek into town.

 

Pelican Town was tiny.

 

The dirt road at some point between the abandoned bus and, well, town, had turned into cobblestone which spread down south towards a couple of buildings and some shrubbery to the west. It wasn’t kept in pristine conditions, so overturned bricks and rocks make it hard to traverse through. You make a note to truly explore later, when the cobblestone catches up with you. You swear under your breath as your toe catches an upturned brick and you stumble, but a steady hand catches your upper arm, steadying you. 

 

“Well now,” came the warm honeyed voice. You look down slightly, only an inch or two taller than the woman holding your arm. “Mayor Lewis told me all about cha!” The slightly paunchy woman said, her wild brown hair styled into a side braid. Her bangs fluffed at the side, it was a simple look all things considered. She helped you balance yourself, before she stepped back. “I’m Marnie!”

 

“It’s… nice to m-meet you, Marnie.” You reply, smiling even though you were keenly aware that she was giving you the once over, and you stepped back half a step, giving both of you enough breathing room. You felt stupid for stuttering, but you were caught off guard. She flaps her hand at you slightly.

 

“I sell livestock and animal care products at my ranch!” She plows on, barely noticing the way your shoulders tighten at the way she carried on. “You should swing by sometime, the cows would love that. I’m just south of the farm!” She grins at you, all teeth but there’s a warmth in the way she smiles. You haven’t seen that in the city before, where everyone’s hustling to get by, pushing through crowds with a frown or a scowl. You smile, trying your best to match her warmth when a green-haired woman pokes her head out of the shop just a few feet behind Marnie. 

 

“Oh!” She exclaims and pops back inside, the tiny tin bell over the door ringing inside. There’s some shouting, but then when you look back at Marnie she’s got her back turned to you, chuckling at the scene unfolding from the store with her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Really, Caroline there’s no need for this, they’ll come into the store anywa-” A mousy-haired man with glasses grumbled as he was ushered outside. He wore a red faded plaid shirt with off-cream slacks. He paused, the green-haired woman steps to his side and grins brightly at you. You feel like you’re being caged in, first with Marnie, and now with these people. You step around Marnie, giving her a weak smile, hoping she’d act as your backup. 

 

“Hello,” You say meekly.

 

“Hello!” Says the woman with the green hair, giving the man in the red plaid an elbow to his rubs. “You must be Charlie, the new farmer.” Her bright grin fades only slightly, as she walks towards you, a hand extended. You take it and much like Lewis, it's a simple shake and drop. 

 

“I’m Caroline! My husband,” Caroline motions to the man now making his way up beside his wife, “runs the general store here in Pelican Town.” They both turn, looking back at the store. You look at it too, feeling your palms beginning to sweat. You recited the names you’ve learned so far in your head. Marnie, livestock seller. Caroline, wife to the general store owner. You step towards the pair and they once again turn around at the same time. 

 

It unnerves you only slightly. 

 

“Have you met our daughter, Abigail?” Caroline asks sweetly. You shake your head, realizing that you wouldn’t be able to talk much. Lewis was right: everyone was very excited to see you, which meant listening more than talking. Honestly, that was okay. You were always a better listener than a talker. “She’s the pale one with the purple hair.” Your eyes widen at the way she describes her own daughter, but Caroline giggles, and nudges her husband in the ribs one more time. 

 

“You can come on down to Pierre’s General Store whenever you like! Except on Wednesday’s. We’re closed then.” Caroline suddenly reaches for your hand again, squeezes it in her own gently. “We’re so very happy to see you here!” Before you have a chance to thank her, she runs back into the general store, leaving you with her husband - Pierre, you were guessing - and Marnie.

 

Marnie had other plans, though. She winks at Pierre, before beginning to follow Caroline into the store. “Well, I better ask Caroline if she’ll load up some hay for me tomorrow. It was nice meeting you, Charlie!”

 

“Bye,” You choke out, and Pierre looks at you. He’s not all that bad, round face with a slight pudge in his stomach. His glasses sparkle in the afternoon sun. Like Robin, his brown hair warms in the sunlight, with some copper and grey splitting out. Your palms don’t feel so clammy anymore, but there’s a pit in the bottom of your stomach threatening to ruin the rest of the day for you.

 

“So, you must be Charlie,” Pierre says, smiling kindly. “I’m Pierre, owner of Pierre’s General Store.” You nod, feeling more at ease. He didn’t seem interested in doing much more than introducing himself anyways. “If you’re looking for seeds, my shop is the place to go.” He sounds like a recording, as if he’s been practising this spiel for you. “I’ll also buy any of your produce for a good price!” Pierre finishes. You smile at him and nod.

 

“I’m, uh. Actually coming down to see if I could buy some seedlings?” You ask him, and he nods. “Parsnip, I guess.” You clarify as if he really needed to know.

 

“I’m dealing with my inventory on a seasonal basis, so anything you do see will only grow in spring, but I will always be happy to take any seasonal produce off your hands,” Pierre tells you, as he ushers you towards the shop. On the way in, you spy a clinic beside it, and a grey-and-blue house just down the hill from what you were assuming was the town square. A brown-roofed building to the direct south of Pierre’s interested you too, but you had one thing to do today, and that was flesh out the remaining portion of the small garden bed you had dug out earlier. 

 

“Parsnips grow very quickly, and are a great beginner’s vegetable, so I’m sure Caroline has a few spare seedlings she can give up...” Pierre says as he brings you inside. You’re nearly assaulted with a nostalgic sensation, and you plant your feet firmly on the carpet, not eager to move around. Pierre smiles as he walks around you, heading further inside. “This place used to be run by George, but Caroline and I were able to buy him out and give him the retirement he deserves.” He explains as he disappears down one of the three aisles available.

 

George. You remember him. A grumpy, cranky old man who often called your grandfather a ‘dastardly fellow’, because Grandpa wouldn’t sell him his entire stock of melons one summer. The store hadn’t been in such grand conditions then, you could clearly remember that much. ‘I have to keep something for Charlie, George.’ You can almost hear him. ‘Bah. Woulda made double with that one melon alone.’ George had muttered from behind the counter. 

 

“Charlie?”

 

Pierre’s in front of you and you blanch, shaking your head to store the memory away somewhere. You must have looked like an idiot, standing there, staring into space. “Sorry, sorry.” You apologize and give him a weak smile. “Parsnip seedlings.” You repeat, and he smiles at you, handing you about five growing seedlings, and a pack of actual parsnip seeds too.

 

“Come to the front and I’ll check you out.”

 

You leave Pierre’s with more than you thought you’d buy, and you’re grateful that the things in your arms would help you in the long run. You traded the pack of seeds for some tulip bulbs, and ended up buying some growing potato plants, on top of the five seedling parsnips, and Pierre threw in an alarm clock for the sake of it being your first purchase. You feel overwhelmed by his generosity; there wasn’t any of that back in Zuzu City.

 

“Thank you!” You call back into the shop, trying to juggle the flat box of dirt and seeds Pierre had so carefully packed everything into. “I’ll try to stop in tomorrow, Pierre. Goodbye!”

 

Before you could take another step you bump into someone.”Oh!”

 

“Oh no!” You gasp, clutching the box before someone once again steadies you.

 

“Woah. easy there.” A man with a mustache and square glasses says, holding you by the upper arms. He releases you barely a moment later, and steps back once he’s sure you’re not going down with your box. “I didn’t expect to run into you so quickly.” He says, and there’s a smile at the corner of his mouth. A pun. Of course. You smile and shift the box into a more comfortable holding position. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Harvey, the local doctor.” Harvey smiles and points to the clinic attached to the side of Pierre’s. You nod, grateful that the box in your hands kept you busy.

 

Harvey didn’t seem to notice your tensing shoulders as he continues on. “As Pelican Town’s only doctor, I perform regular check-ups and medical procedures.” He beams, a proud man in his line of work. “It’s very rewarding.”

 

“That’s great,” you reply, breathless. The box was heavy, and your arms were already too sore from the tree cutting and tilling and rock smashing you had done back on the farm. You still had to walk the distance between here and there! “I better get going, uh. It was nice to meet you, Harvey.” You tell him and begin the trek towards the farmhouse, picking your feet carefully around the cobblestones that would have tripped you otherwise.

 

**~*~**

 

By the time you’ve planted the new seedlings and have taken the alarm clock into the cottage, you’re exhausted. You hunted for an outlet, sparks flying from one before you managed to secure one by the bed. Pierre said it was aligned with a satellite, so the need to set it would never happen. You plugged it in and sat on the end of the sofabed, waiting for the thing to turn on. Once it did, the fine green lines on the clock read “4:30P”, and for a moment you’re stunned because there’s no way it's only half past four in the afternoon. 

 

But your muscles are singing in agony. Your shoulders feel bunched up from carrying that box from town, and now you were sitting on your sofa bed. One wrong move and you’d be out like a light. You bend down and take your boots off, feeling your spine tense up much like your shoulders. Once you wrestle the boots off your feet, you don't even bother attempting to take any of your clothes off or pull the blanket down when you flop back against the mattress, eyes closing against everything telling you not to. You don’t remember ever falling asleep so rapidly before.


	3. west hastings street, anxiously waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of cancer, of abuse. Also, another long as fuck chapter- sorry? (Please ignore the gap in updates. Real-life shot me down haha.)

You were awake before the rooster started to crow the next morning, sitting on the floor with a box of your grandfather’s things strewn around you. At some point in the night, you had jolted awake; the sound of a branch scratching at a window rousing you from a deep sleep. It had barely been loud enough on any other night, but with nothing else but the soft breeze of the night wind, the scratching was as loud as a truck rattling over a manhole cover. For a moment you simply sat in the bed, counting the seconds between pounding heartbeats. Your arms ache from the crate you had carried back, and your hips felt weird, but you were fine. Things were fine. You were fine. It just took some repeating of that particular mantra to get your heartbeat under control. 

 

You had slipped into something more comfortable after shrugging the dirty clothes off from the afternoon before and had tiptoed into the kitchen, hoping to find a working kettle to boil some water for tea. You had a long laundry list growing in the back of your head, figuring out when and where you could secure some better clothes, if Pierre carried anything that would hide the -

 

Ignore it. Nevermind that. That’s all from a past life now.

 

In the search in the blue-grey light, you found the boxed kettle, a sketchy looking hot plate, and the box of papers you were sorting through right underneath it all.

 

By the time the sun had crested over the hill, you were elbow-deep in your grandfather’s financial records, everything near meticulously accounted for up until he died.

 

Medical papers, bills, loans he had taken out from a bank account in Zuzu City. Previous payments made to what you thought might have been savings, but it looked more like a secondary retirement fund. Of course, scribbles lined every margin. Written borrowed loans from people in town, scratched out with “paid” or “returned” written in increasingly shaking letters beside it. The loans were mainly from Lewis, often with “gifted” written in brackets with “to be paid” written under it. You set the loan papers to one side and picked up another small stack. Medical papers, research papers, medication list. Lymphoma underlined in red ink. You had heard of it in Zuzu, more frequently than you ever thought it would be here. You can remember the phone conversation, of your grandfather’s doctor telling you he had passed. Most of the details were blurry and hard to focus on, but one stood out. He would have a room bill to pay, and you paid it without a second thought.

 

It meant your car would be repossessed, but you no longer cared about the hunk of metal you barely used, not when you could walk or take transit.

 

You put the papers down, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears, tears of frustration, of hopelessness. Your grandfather had been the only person in your life to tell you the truth, to tell you how it really was, how he felt about anything. Your mother - his daughter - had despised that, right up until you cut contact with her. He wasn’t afraid that he would scare you away, or that he would say the wrong thing. “Charlie needs to know! We can’t keep coddling them.” Was his defense whenever they tried to tell him to stop, or to change the subject. He was right, and it was something you had grown to love about the man. When he got sick, he didn’t try and hide it from you, either. He told you that he loved you, but there was nothing he could do, and there was nothing to be done. “It’s too advanced, magpie.” A nickname that you had yet to shrug away. You feel your heart tighten at the feeling, like a sacred magic had been poured inside of you.

 

He had been the driving factor behind you getting a job to escape your parent's house, but that hadn’t been enough to protect you from them as a team, from their cold, collective reach, from-

 

Shaking your head as the trail of dangerous thoughts began to surface once more, you shuffle through the papers on the floor again before a name on one of the sheets caught your attention. You pick it up, noticing that it was a misplaced loan paper amongst the medical ones. Elliott. Your grandfather had borrowed $15, for a bus ticket to Zuzu. A bus ticket to you. There were no markers of “paid” or “to be paid” or “gifted” beside it. You lean back slightly, looking around you in the near empty house. He had given everything up to get to Zuzu for treatment, and it showed. 

 

Elliott. 

 

Elliott… you sigh, move to stand, and decided it was time to get the day started. You tuck the piece of paper in by the door under the other letters you had ruffled through, and grab your lukewarm tea, remembering with a jolt to turn the hot plate off too.

 

You seriously cant afford for the cottage to burn down right now.

 

**~*~**

 

Finally reaching the town, you walk with less stiffness in your legs, fueled on by the slightly salty air that drifts in from the south. There’s something in the air beyond the salt. There’s something in the way the sun shines down on your skin that makes you feel grateful to have made it to Stardew Valley. Was it the quiet promise of a new life? Was it the gentle reminder that life wasn’t completely over for you? You weren’t sure, but at that same moment it didn’t matter. You were here to start over, to find a new way to live in the dredges of the turmoil you had narrowly escaped from. The town has already come to life, two young kids screeching as they chase one another back and forth across the cobblestone.

 

Caroline is speaking animatedly to Harvey, who nods to whatever the green haired woman is saying. Pierre must be at the store. A more heavy-set woman wandered over to you, giving you a curt nod that you feel compelled to match. She chuckles, spits on the cobblestone between you and heads further to the west. Whether that was an accepting sign or not you can’t put too much stock into, because a laughing voice just behind you makes you stop in your steps. 

 

It’s Marnie and Mayor Lewis.

 

For a minute you stand and watch in awe, how easily they converse as if they were old friends. You don’t bother trying to hide the fact, besides, it wasn’t like they weren’t the attention of a few others too. 

 

Without thinking, when you catch the brunette’s eyeing you out the corner of her eye you wave to Marnie, a familiar face that you don’t feel so awkward around and blush slightly when she catches your wave with a big one of her own. Mayor Lewis turns slightly, a look on his face you can point out as ‘confusion’. Unable to take the direction of his gaze you give him a tiny wave, enough to have him acknowledge that you were there, and you duck down the path that walks you past an empty dog run, with a bowl collecting dust sitting in it. It reminds you of the pet you left behind in Zuzu, of the pet that you had no choice but to abandon. 

 

The warmth of the sun abandons you and you shiver. How heartless could you be, abandoning an innocent heart like that? The sudden turn of thoughts has you questioning everything, wondering about all of the things you could have done differently if you had just planned things out better. Shaking your head you take a breath, looking down at the ground. Silly. Stupid. Should have gone back when you had the chance- You bump into someone, and you gasp, stepping back with a hand up, apologies beginning to fall from your mouth without thought. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t paying attention-”

 

“Hey, hey.” Came a soothing voice. “Hey, stop, it’s alright.”

 

You look up in a panic, because the person the voice belonged to was tall. Taller than you at any rate, which normally wasn’t a bad thing, but not after… not after what happened. You stepped back again, realizing he had taken a step in towards you when you started stumbling over your words. Looking up you notice with a start simply how attractive this man was. You weren’t shallow, and handsome people weren’t always a great way to base first impressions on, but Gods, if this man wasn’t in fact a handsome man. He smiled at you, tenderly, a few fingers pressed just under your elbow which you moved away a few seconds later. A stranger touching you? No thanks.

 

“I was far too busy daydreaming myself when we collided. I’m sorry, and the fault should rest completely on me.” A gentleman. The way he spoke, the way he strung his words together made you think of a poet. You feel anxiety coil up dangerously in your stomach regardless. He continues to smile at you, and for a moment the whole world seems to slow down as your gaze meets his. His eyes - a honeyed brown, golden flecks near the pupil - meet yours and for a moment you’re completely at a loss for words. Then, the dangerous coil of anxiety threatens to send you to your knees, and you back up again, waving slightly.

 

“I have to go,” You stammer, feeling your face flush with color as you battle down the anxiety that’s continuing to build. “I, uh. I have to find a man - or woman, I don’t…- I have to find someone named Elliott? He - they - lent my grandfather $15 and-”

 

He raises a hand to the base of his throat, the motion cutting your words off. “I’m Elliott.”

 

Oh. Of course he is.

 

“Oh.” You answer him breathlessly. You swallow down the bile threatening to ruin your day, and give a trembling half smile, trying to battle back the way your stomach felt. “I owe you $15, then.” You try and say it with less fear in your voice, desperate to not show how afraid you were of a towering man.

 

He furrowed his eyebrows together slightly. “No, you don’t.” Elliott was quick to answer. He matched his name, you think to yourself. Gentlemanly and kind and warm. “I gave that to your grandfather with no strings attached a few months ago.” A beat. “He knew that.”

 

You laugh softly, and run a hand through your hair. “You clearly didn’t know him well then.” It was supposed to be a harmless jab, but just seconds too late you realize how wrong and callous that sounded. Of course no one really knew your grandfather, not the way you knew him. You wince, Elliott’s neck colours, and suddenly the casual track of conversation has shifted to something else. You could curse the way your tongue defeats you. Both you and Elliott look down at your feet. 

 

You, feeling stupid and awkward, huff and flap a hand. “I… I didn’t mean it like that, I…”

 

“No, it’s alright.” Elliott is quick to jump in, soothing once again. There’s a sad smile on his face now, one that you didn’t like seeing. It reminded you too much of the funeral, of how people patted your shoulder and mumbled their sincere condolences. “I shouldn’t have been so frivolous with the situation.”

 

Frivolous?

 

You bite the corner of your life before starting to talk once more. “Elliott, I… My grandfather kept a sheet of the people he owed, how much and when he was to pay it back. All that was on a sheet of paper in his cottage was your name and the amount he owed.” You explain, crossing your arms over your chest. Defensive maybe, but you didn’t know what else to do with your hands. “He would hound you down and shove it down your shirt if he was still here.” 

 

Elliott blinks, tilts his head in a sympathetic way you’ve seen before. You swallow the thick knot at the base of your throat, take a breath, and meet his gaze with a soft smile. “I’ll have your money for you by the end of the week, alright? Where can I find you on a Sunday?” You hope your tone is firm enough to leave no room for arguments, but kind enough that he won’t peg you as a freak when you turn around and leave. 

 

To your surprise Elliott laughs, throwing his head back as the sun catches the soft ginger of his hair. “I’ll be on the beach, or at the dock.” He waves to the south, a wide smile on his face. “Sundays are the best days to catch me there, depending on the weather. If it’s raining, I may be inside, or up the mountain.”

 

Beach, or mountain. Sounds just like any other Sunday at that rate. “Alright. Sunday then.” You confirm, and he smiles at you.

 

“Sunday. I never caught your name?”

 

You pause, and then smile again. “Charlie.”

 

He smiles once more, bows at the waist and straightens back up. You smile, caught off guard by the act. “I’ll see you Sunday, Charlie. It was an absolute pleasure to meet you” You can’t help the grin that cracks.

 

“See you on Sunday, Elliott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I'm so sorry for the long wait. Real-life and other projects held my attention and now I have a bit of a breather I can post this! Hopefully, the next update won't take months. Hopefully. Thank you for your patience.


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